Rachel Getting Married?
by Jaime.Starr
Summary: Rachel Dawes decides to marry Harvey Dent and asks her best friend, Olivia Walker, to be her maid of honor. Things go out of style as Olivia obsesses over the masked vigilante and detests the Billionaire Playboy. Everything turns upside down. Bruce/OC
1. This Christmas

_Disclaimer: I own what's mine. _

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**Rachel Getting Married?**

**Chapter. 1: ****This Christmas**

I ran my hand through the rack of gorgeous, designer-made gowns with a glass of Chardonney in my other hand. The repertoire was in immaculate condition: steamed, pressed, sprayed (just slightly), and dusted. Even the sparkling showcase window was shinier and displayed more dresses made by Stella McCartney and Vera Wang than that of Kleinfeld store in Manhattan. I continued browsing through numerous dresses in various styles and sizes, ranging from mermaid, schiffon, princess-like, over-the-top-ball-gown, to commonplace strapless gowns. While I was sauntering down Aisle #3, I found one hell of a poofy dress. Out of mere curiosity, I pulled it out using both my arms (after putting my glass aside). This dress, indeed, fit right into my fourth category 'over-the-top-ball-gown' plus the tackiness and gratuitous ruffles running down from the waist line. It even had some plastic feathers possibly imported from China and Indonesia, manufactured by underaged workers. I scoffed at the dress and as I decided to put it back, I accidentally stepped on one of its extremely fragile ruffles, and left a noticeable hole near the bottom. Shit. I was going to be in big trouble. Instead of worrying too much, I put the gown back and went back to the changing room area.

It was late October and the changing rooms were fully occupied by anxious brides, and constantly disagreeing and yelling mothers. It was probably one of the busiest months for wedding dress stores as many brides were buying dresses for their upcoming weddings in December near Christmas (yes, procrastinating brides would buy their dresses two months before) and perfect June weddings. I was able to spot some pregnant brides as well, trying to fit into size four or six dresses. When the dresses didn't fit, they sobbed and bellowed at the consultants and alterers. Jesus christ, those are fucking wedding consultants, not your shrinks! I desperately needed more drink. Possibly tequila instead of this cheap, store-bought Chardonney.

I leaned against the cold wall, and waited patiently. I've read from "How to Be a Perfect Maid of Honor for Dummies" that I am supposed to provide solace and support to the bride. Maybe I should read her some of her favorite poems while cooking her chicken noodle soup from scratch. At least I'm trying. I glanced at my watch and it was already two. I've sacrificed by precious lunch time and I started drinking way before Happy Hour. This wasn't going to be good. By the time I was done with my fourth glass of Chardonney, the ravishing bride-to-be stood in front of me under the scintillating lights.

"So. What do you think?" Rachel asked. She absolutely looked stunning even with her hair in a tight, business-like ponytail. Her eggshell white dress really added more vibrant color to her skin (as it was more pale than her skin), and its simple, strapless design fitting into my fifth category showed her down-to-earth personality.

"I never knew you could actually look so gorgeous with your hair and make-up like that." I said. Rachel laughed (as she always laughs or pretends to laugh at my somewhat funny jokes) and walked around.

"Liv, I still can't believe it! I'm getting married next spring!" She exclaime. For once, I thought she started smoking dope or something. Her unnatural bubbly personality really got me thinking.

"Boo- I don't even know why you're buying the dress _now_. You could've waited until December. Until Boxing Day or something-"

"I'm getting ready early. Procrastinating is only fun when you're in college. Stop pouting and help me adjust the top part." She scolded. Rachel always had been the 'motherly' character. Perhaps, that's why I had to ask _my_ friends to be _her_ bridesmaids. Rachel even considered paying them (which was absolutely ludicrous), but instead, my cunning friends said they'd be fine with cute bridesmaid dresses, free liquor, and hot&loaded bachelor guests. Maybe they're not cunning and rather desperate.

"You should really alter this part right here," I said as I pinched the back part of the dress. "Or, put more padding for your small boobies." I giggled. Rachel elbowed me and told me to behave. I glanced back at my watch: two thirty. Oh boy, I'm in trouble.

"Olivia, I'm going out with Harvey this evening and do you want to join us?" She asked naively. Or on purpose, if she wanted to take away my fucking dignity and mess with my mind.

"Why the hell do you think I'm going to go out on a date with you guys? If you two want to have menage-a-trois or something, the third person has to be a stranger-"

"Liv! You're so inappropriate sometimes. Harvey and I aren't into those disgusting sexual acts."

"Not even S&M? Bondage? Roleplays?" I bet Rachel doesn't even know what S&M is.

"Okay, we don't engage in those sexual relationships." Bingo. God, I hate lawyers and the way they talk.

"No offense, your sex life sounds quite mundane and boring to me." I teased. Rachel was clearly offended and made that sound every girl makes when they're mad: combination of hissing noise and 'huh'.

"Sweetie, Harvey and I make love. Quite often, actually." Okay, that really disgusted me. Who makes love nowadays?

"Okay grandma, I'm glad you're living your fairytale life with Prince Charming. Now, I really have to go back to work." I put my Blackberry back in my purse and kissed her forehead.

"No, you told me you were going to look at bridesmaid dresses! Liv, you're not helping me out here!" She whined. I turned back and sighed.

"Look, I'm starving since I didn't have lunch. I don't live off of meatless and bland cobb salads every lunch. I'm already late for my meeting and your whining isn't helping." I raised my voice. Rachel's wedding consultant mouthed if everything was all right. I nodded and asked her to leave.

"Fine. But remember we have to go to that Halloween party I've told you about. Pick out a cute outfit and maybe you'll get someone to like you." She said.

"What party? I wasn't even invited-"

"I know, I did. I'm allowed to bring one guest, and I chose you! Aren't you so happy?"

"Boo- so excited. Who the hell is throwing that party anyway? If it's If it's Donald Trump, I'm in." I said. Rachel let out a dry laugh and adjusted her loose dress.

"Bruce is throwing the party. You know, Bruce Wayne? My old friend?" She said. I nodded as I've been heard soooo much about that douchebag. Her facial expression, however, was still mild and calm. I couldn't believe that she adored this guy.

"You mean, Tucker Max." That clearly wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"Who is Tucker Max? Is he like an actor?" I raised my brow and glared at my best friend. Even though she graduated first or second from Princeton and went to Harvard Law School, she was socially and real-life stupid.

"Tucker Max is that guy who drinks till he passes out and fucks anything with big boobs and long legs." I said.

"Ew, that is tasteless. Bruce is really nice once you get to meet him." She protested and smiled as she began to talk about her "Precious Bruce". It sickened me.

"I really don't have time for this. I'll see you later-"

"Don't forget the party! You have to come! And I mean it!" She yelled and I left.

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_I was never this pessimistic and cynical about my life before the incident. I grew up with Rachel and went to the same primary AND secondary school with her. Sure, we had those frenemy moments at least once a week, but other than that, we were inseparable until she decided to go to Princeton and I decided to stay in-state. I was never the brightest among the group; she was. I didn't know Victoria was the capital of British Columbia until Rachel lectured me about provinces of Canada for twenty minutes. _

_Despite her academic knowledge, she knew nothing about music, had no sense of fashion and humor, and always fell in love with overachievers like herself. It was almost like dating oneself. As we went our separate ways (but promised to call and email every weekend...which never happened) we became more distant. I soon lost my interest in school, and decided to spend my life savings to go to one of the top-notch fashion schools in Rhode Island. My divorcee mother was too busy drinking wine and crying, so she didn't care if I pursued my dream of becoming a designer. I've always wondered if she'd let me become a stripper if I wanted to. Really. _

_After graduating from the fashion school, I got to intern for Siena Cassell, a notable lingerie designer. The word 'lingerie' has that special French-like tone that makes every girl to own at least one. The idea of making something that could entice so many people, eventually intrigued me to further study the sub-field of fashion. Every lace used to make a nightgown or bras/panties had to be distinct, as it determined the shape and taste to them. The color also had a great impact on the final product, as colors such as cherry red, black, dark blue, and indigo were the most popular and men preferred them over yellow, baby blue, and white lingerie. _

_Even though I never got to work directly with Siena Cassell, I learned many techniques and put on some of my designs that received an 'OK' sign from Siena on emaciated models. After four years of having twenty-minute lunch breaks and receiving constant 'emergency' calls from my mentors, I put an end to my internship. Soon, I found myself jobless and that's when I found solace in Rachel. She had just graduated from Harvard with a degree in law, and was more than happy to help. Although she didn't help much (nothing besides encouraging text messages and calls), I got a call from Steve Macmillan. _

_I was more than ecstatic to start a new career under Steve Macmillan, even though he wasn't so prominent in the field. He told me that he was quite impressed with my designs and wanted to see more of them. I nodded and signed a piece of paper saying that I will work at least a year with this metrosexual mentor with exceptionally good hair. I was ready for a fresh start. I still work with Steve. _

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I was late. In fact, extremely late. In this industry, nobody could be _fashionably late _(what an irony). Ever. I got in the elevator and counted the numbers as it went up. I checked my watch: oh god, it was already three thirty. When the door opened at thirtieth floor, I jumped out and ran like Bolt until I was by Steve's office. I fixed my messy hair due to Gotham's heavy October wind, and my navy blouse. I cleared my throat, and walked in without knocking.

"I know, I know, I'm late. I'm terribly sorry-"

"It's all right, you're only-" He looked back at his Apple screen. "two and about half an hour late. Plus, your hair looks like Sarah Jessica-Parker's in Sex and the City. Totally messy. You need a brush." He quipped. I laughed at his reference and took a seat.

"So, what did I miss?" I asked. Come on, I had to seem at least engaged in this conversation to compensate for my tardiness.

"Excuse me? You owe me one for covering your ass during the board meeting. They wanted to know what our Christmas Edition was going to look like." He handed me last year's lookbook. I flipped through the pages until I saw half-naked girls in naughty santa outfits. First of all, Santa's aren't skinny, and these skinny bithes are ruining the image of plump, old Santas from Antarctica.

"Um, right I owe you one." I continued flipping. "Since when do we come up with new products for Christmas? It's been this sexy-santa-repertoire for ages." I said. Steve was obviously unhappy about my low motivation.

"Honey, that's why people buy their lingerie at Victoria's Secret. They come up with new stuff every Christmas! Now, what do you have in mind?" He desperately seeked for a solution.

"Perhaps _Sexy-Christmas-Tree-Outfits_? Would that be a turn-on? I like Christmas trees." I asked. I was expecting a loud laugh, but instead, he gave me a cold stare.

"That will only look good in girls with tree-trunk legs. We came up with snow angels though-"

"Too cliche."

"Fine. It's not like you can come up with better ideas." He mocked me and finished his warm Starbucks coffee.

"Steve-" I said. He sat up straight and cleared his throat. "What exactly is Christmas?" I asked.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked and I shook my head.

"It's that time of the year, where people thank each other and help the needy. It's the time of appreciation and gratitude." I said. He still seemed perplexed.

"What are you suggesting?" His eyes showed that he was still interested in my suggestion.

"I would like to dedicate our 2010 Christmas Collection to that special person in Gotham who has contributed so much for our city and took no credit for his work." I said. Oh boy, he was still lost.

"You mean...Chris Taylor? That famous philanthropist who looks like Jack Johnson?" He asked timidly.

"No! Steve, I mean Batman!" I bellowed with excitement.

"Batman? Really?" He gave me his signature 'I'm-Not-Sure-About-That-Outfit' look.

"Yes. Batman. He has done so much for our city, and we never really appreaciated him. I would like to make a...hum, let's say Female Vigilante Collection. How about that?" Steve's eyes eventually lit up like red and green Christmas lights and he clapped his hands twice.

"Brilliant! It's new, fresh, and different. But, I have one tiny concern for your unconventional approach-" He paused. "What if the models for your collection end up looking like a bunch of dominatrixes?" He said. That's when I grabbed my empty stomach and laughed.

"I'll use more cotton and laces than leather and plastic." I reassured him.

"I'm good with that. Come up with sketches by next week or so?" I nodded and got up to head back to my office. "Oh, Olivia!" He called my name loud.

"Yes? Anything else to discuss?" I asked.

"Your skin needs some more glow."

"What are you trying to say?" I questioned him.

"You should have some sex. It's healthy and will bring back your glow. Go on a date, for god's sake." He complained. I rolled my eyes and left.

Aren't bosses excellent at giving love-life advice?

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**AN: Hi everyone! I know, I know this is new! I was inspired by many novels, and decided to make a story out of all the ideas I got from them. In this story, I don't think I'd follow the storyline of TDK and kind of do my own version of TDK or something. **

**I hope you liked the first chapter!**

**Please REVIEW AND SUBSCRIBE! REVIEW PLEASE! :D**

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS,**

**Jaime**


	2. Margaritas for the Girls

_Disclaimer: I own what's mine. :)__

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**Rachel Getting Married?**

**Chapter 2: Margaritas for the Girls**

_This Really is the End for Tracy Miller _

_By. Sarah Lee_

_Hello folks, _

_Being a celeb magnet, I know I'm usually the first one one to find out every single dirty deets about our favorite celebrities and socialites and spread them on my own blog and many weekly gossip magazines. I know this because I was on the list of 100 Most Hated People of the Year (just below Perez Hilton). However, I'm not uploading this post at three in the morning to spare this hot-off-the-press news with y'all. Unfortunately, I wasn't the first one to discover this tragedy (aka juicy gossip); it was the Gotham Police Department, directed under Commissioner Gordon. _

_This is the part where everything gets interesting. You all remember Tracy Miller, right? The blonde beauty with emerald green eyes, who used to rule the Victoria's Secret and Envius runway? Okay, I know there are a lotta models like her plus the undecipherable foreign accents. Too bad she was born and raised in good old Minnesota. Back to the info! She was often on the cover of Us Weekly and People for her outrageous outfits and because of hot and rich bachelors she had dated before. Does this sound familiar? I hope so! She has dated Robert Jackson, Mila Tokarsky, and...hum, oh right, our favorite billonaire playboy, Bruce Wayne for about an hour. That still counts, right?_

_Back to our topic. This is the part where things get pretty ugly. Just about an hour ago, she was found dead in the alleys of Gotham (I won't say where because of security purposes). Judging by the scars and bruises present around her wrists, and the fact that she was naked, the GCPD has determined that she had been most likely brutally raped and tortured. My hands are shaking and sweatdrops are dropping from the tip of my nose as I'm typing. How awful? Just think about what her British fiance would say about this? Gosh, people!_

_It surely scares the crap out of all the ladies living in Gotham! This monster should be thrown in jail for commiting such a heinous crime ASAP! Only the autopsy results would tell the further deets and verification, so please stay tuned and may Tracy Miller and her great body rest in peace. _

_XOXO,_

_Sarah _

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Bruce frowned as he finished reading the article and scrolled down to the comment page. He wasn't a huge fan of gossip webpages and magazines, as they portrayed his pseudo playboy persona. However, he was somewhat grateful that those gossip-goers spreaded such false image of him, that he didn't have to worry so much about his secret identity being disclosed. He reread the article and inevitably felt hatred towards the woman who posted this absurd article. There was no remorse in this whatsoever.

He had went on a date with Tracy Miller literally for an hour, and the article got that right at least. He followed his usual procedure: pick up, take her out to fancy dinner, pose for a few photos, later for drinks, and drive her back. After picking her up, he took her to an eclectic restaurant on the sixth and fifteenth. She wasn't so fond of the wine and salad, so she suggested hooking up in the bathroom. She gave him a suggestive smile and a wink, and headed to the ladies' room. When Bruce glanced at his watch, it was already eleven; it was time to return to his night duty. He left her there, alone in the bathroom.

The reason why he remembered Tracy was that she called fifty times during that night, and even emailed his office email twenty times. He guessed she was desperate, but ignored her request of seeing each other again. It was indeed unnecessay.

"Master Wayne, it's all over the news now." Alfred walked in with a tray full of homemade cookies and a cup of English tea.

"I know and I'm looking closely." He said.

"Do you think it could possibly be a serial rapist or a killer? Maybe a gang?" He asked inquisitively. Bruce shrugged and closed his laptop.

"We can't conclude anything until another victim appears with silmilar MO's. We should keep an eye on this, Alfred." He said as he took a sip of his tepid tea.

"I hope this case won't interfere with Miss Dawes' upcoming wedding, sir." Bruce froze for a moment by thinking of his best friend's wedding. He still felt that he had a corner of his heart just for his childhood friend. When Rachel showed him her clear-cut engagement ring, He congratulated her, but was still bitter about her decision of marrying Gotham's DA. Then, she asked him if he could be Harvey's groomsman, as Harvey needed one more person. Bruce reluctantly agreed, and decided to help the lucky man out.

"It shouldn't. Did you finish senting out the Halloween party invitations?"

"Of course, sir. Miss Dawes has requested for an extra ticket, so I sent her an additional invite." Alfred said. Bruce raised his brow and took another bite of the cookie.

"She's bringing a guest other than Harvey?"

"I guess so. I'm certain it's going to be great." Alfred reassured him.

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I was still shocked that such tragedy happened to Trace. I liked her as a model because she had the ideal body type for a lingerie model: tall, skinny yet curvy, not too small or big breasts, and glowing skin. Whenever Steve and the crew were throwing a collection, I contacted Tracy's manager first and booked her. She and I actually enjoyed talking about mutually interested subjects over dinner such as fashion, vacation, and sex. This was all over the local news, and police officers on TV were warning all the single gals of Gotham to carry pepper sprays or taser guns. Good thing I had one in my purse.

Here I was, sitting alone on a mushroom couch waiting for my irresponsible bridesmaids. Rachel couldn't be here because she was going out for dinner with her future hubby. I was the one to pick out tonight's venue,_ Serendipity_. It was a rather quiet lounge where young hipsters came for drinks over happy hour and enjoyed its fried finger foods. I personally liked it because I knew the bartender/manager, Ted, and the bathrooms were clean. After sitting for five minutes, my drink arrived. I tipped the waiter five bucks and asked for a basket of baked nachos. When I was about to enjoy my cold glass of gin and tonic, I was interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. I looked back and saw a man in his mid 20s dressed like a preppy Ivy League student in a dark polo and khakis. He had that West-Coast smile and sandy blonde hair.

"I think you dropped this." He said as he showed me a rusty pendant.

"It's not mine." I said and continued drinking. He obviously didn't get my 'fuck-off-and-leave-me-alone' message, and took a seat beside me.

"I know it's not yours. I just wanted to get your attention, you know." He smirked and offered me a hand. "I'm Dan. Well, it's Daniel Ray but people call me Dan." I shook his hand.

"Olivia Walker. Nice to mee you, 'My-Name-Is-Daniel Ray-But-People-Call-Me-Dan'." I said. He gave me a feigned smile and put the cheap pendant aside. Well, screw him if he can't take a joke.

"I'm actually new in town. Moved here about three months ago."

"Born and raised. So, do you come here often?" I took Steve's advice and decided to engage in social relationships. See, I'm asking questions!

"Not often enough." He smirked. I let out a dry laugh as his punch line was flat out pathetic.

"Why did you come to Gotham?" I pretended to take a genuine interest in talking to this moron.

"I actually just graduated from Yale and got a job here-"

"So you must like bulldogs, right?" I asked. I was already done with my first. I waved at Ted and pointed at my glass. That meant I wanted another.

"I guess, it was our school mascot." He said. "What do you do?" He asked.

"I'm a stripper."

"What?" He brushed his sandy blonde hair with his left.

"Just kidding. I was testing if you were actually listening to what I was saying." I said and took a handful of hot nachos. "I design lingerie. And I'm not kidding this time."

"Wow, really? That's nice. I've always wanted to do marketing and PR, so I got a job at my father's company." He said. No wonder why he has no friends with him tonight.

"I actually do marketing as well."

"That's great! What do you endorse?" He asked. Gosh, this guy was like a leech.

"My products. I wear my bras and panties to everywhere I go, essentially advertising their utility. Would you like to see them?" I asked.

"Wait, here? There are people here, Olivia. No, I don't think-"

"Exactly. So, grow some balls and come back when you're thirty, kiddo. Okay? Bye." I said and left him to go to the bar where Ted had my drink ready. I looked back and the Yale grad who was still sitting down at the spot. I rolled my eyes and handed Ted a ten dollar bill.

"Rough night, huh?" He asked as he handed me a glass of Jack and Coke.

"Uh-huh."

"You know, you can't just reject every guy you meet. That guy wasn't too bad, was he?" He asked. I nodded and took a sip. Ted was in his last fourties with an Italisn mustache and still bartending. His veteran bartending skills were probably one of the best in town.

"He was a complete catastrophy. Plus, he went to Yale and is going to work for his sugar daddy." I said. Ted laughed out loud and offered me a patron shot.

"It's on the house. So, how are things going with ya?" He asked.

"Not so good. I have to do about eight sketches, plan my friend's stupid wedding, and clean my apartment." I sighed just by thinking about cleaning. Maybe I should hire a maid or a cleaner.

"I'm sure you can handle them all. Oh, and speaking of the wedding, your friends are here." He pointed at the entrance and I saw Kate and Lily. I waved and approached them.

"Liv! I'm loving the outfit." Kate said as she kissed my cheek, and I hugged both of my friends. Katie and I went to same school in Rhode Island, and bonded especially well because we were both from Gotham City. Lily has been my next door neighbor since I moved back to Gotham when I finished school. Three of us would have sleepovers and enjoyed Rum&Coke Fridays.

"Thanks, you guys want to sit down?" I asked. When I took them to the mushroom couch I was sitting on, I spotted Dan. I swear to God he was a leech.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked. Kate and Lily had no idea what was going on and decided to go and get drinks.

"Waiting for you. Do you want to go back to my place?" He asked.

"Excuse me? I told you to piss off, you moron." I said and took a seat. He took a seat beside mine (expectedly) and took out his card.

"Call me when your sober, darling." He said. What a jerk! I remained silent and didn't move a muscle until he exited. Kate and Lily came back with two glasses of martini and margaritas each.

"Who is that guy? He's super cute." Katie said.

"He's no one. Now, for our bridesmaid dresses-"

"Liv, you can't just avoid all male species. I would totally do him-"

"Lily, you can do so much better. Seriously, can we get this done now? I have other things to do." I said out of pure frustration.

"Fine. I'd go with baby blue or purple. What do you think?" Katie suggested and pointed at the strapless sample dress.

"That looks cute, but we'll end up looking like cotton candy." I said. There were much to choose from: strapless, halter, schiffon and open-back, ranging from red, baby blue, purple, yellow, baby green, black, gray, and brown.

"We'll look like hot cotton candy!" Lily said.

"Okay, at least you don't have to choose which dress to get AND buy a Halloween costume." I complained.

"Why do you need a costume? I thought you were staying in that night." Katie asked.

"I have to go to this Halloween party with Rachel and I need a costume." I paused and took a sip of Katie's vodka martini. "Maybe I should buy a mask and go as myself. Boo! Scary."

"Liv, you have to come up with a better idea!"

"Yes! Halloween is the only time where a girl can dress all slutty without being insulted!" Lily clapped her hands and quickly put her blonde hair to a neat bun.

"What are you suggesting? That I should go in my birthday suit?" I asked.

"No, like...hum a Playboy bunny, French maid, sexy wonderwoman, belly dancer, dirty cowgirl, naughty school girl-"

"I don't want to go as a school girl." I said firmly. "Playboy bunny doesn't sound so bad except for the fact that my hair isn't platinum blonde."

"How about a sexy kitten?" Katie asked.

"A sexy kitten? I don't like whiskers."

"Then go as a bunny! You'll look so hot and cute. That might get you laid, you know." Lily said. She really was concerned about my inactive sex life. She was already done with her first margarita, and was sucking on the lime wedge now.

"Fine. I'll go as a slutty bunny." I reluctantly agreed.

"Hey Liv," Katie paused to take another sip. "When was the last time you had sex?" She asked. Lily supported her and asked me as well.

"None of your business-"

"Have you even had sex with anyone after Alex?" I froze again when she mentioned my ex-fiance.

"Nope." I said.

"What? Really? Oh my, that's such a long time!" Lily said.

"Lils, not everyone has a boy toy to mess around with. Liv, it's been only seven months, right?" Katie elbowed Lily for her ruthless comment. Another reason why I don't talk about my ex.

"Actually, nine. No worries, I'm perfectly happy with my vibrator." I said.

"Okay, we really have to get you a boyfriend at the bachelorette party!" Katie exclaimed and gave me a high-five.

"Boo- where do you think Rachel would like to go for the bachelorette party?" I asked.

"The Courthouse." Lily half-joked. Katie laughed as well, and told me how much she disliked Rachel. "Seriously, do lawyers ever have fun?"

"Yes, they're people too, Lils." Katie interrupted. "They go on dates and go out for drinks. I think."

"I'm thinking somewhere on the Lower East Side. What do you think?" I asked. They nodded and agreed. Thank the lord, that was esay.

"How about the rehearsal dinner? Are we choosing the venue as well?" They asked.

"I'm not too sure about that yet. I should ask Rach and Harvey." I said. They nodded and order another round of margaritas with extra salt.

This was going to be a long night.

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**AN: Here you go! It's the second chapter and I hope you all liked it. There will be more deets regarding Olivia's past relationship and I hope you'll like that as well. **

**Please, please, please**

**REVIEW. This will make my day and subscribe as well. **

**Happy Reading&Reviewing everyone!**

**Hugs,**

**Jaime**


	3. Nightmares and Assholes

_Disclaimer: I own what's mine_

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**Rachel Getting Married?**

**Chapter 3: Nightmares and Assholes**

_His breaths became heavier and he groaned louder as my legs wrapped tightly around his torso. He pinned my arms hard enough that I could feel my palms turning white; he was always the dominant one. His dominance and power overwhelmed my fragile physical features as he continued thrusting. Sweatdrops formed on his forehead and they ran down his acute nose and eventually to the valley between my back arched indicating that I was close to climaxing. When I began to yelp helplessly, his rough lips clashed onto mine and stopped me from screaming out his name. As his lips left mine, I let out a soft moan and tried to control my heavy, unbalanced breathing. Soon, he crashed on top of me after a few more strides, and let go of my arms. I pulled the white sheets closer to myself, and untucked it underneath my arms. I still breathed heavily and I was busy brushing my tangled hair with my fingers. I looked back at Alex who was still lying down on his stomach, and an inevitable smile lit my face as I saw him satisfied. _

_"Liv-" He paused. I finished my almost empty glass of Pinot and waited. "You're fucking amazing, you know that?" He said. _

_"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I did too." I said. I always felt timid and giddy around this man; he knew how to get what he wanted from me, and yet still respect me in a way. He wasn't the typical Prince Charming from those Disney movies, but I found solace in his down to earth, laid-back personality._

_"We should do this again. Now. Or like in ten minutes, after I recharge." He demanded as he got up and went under the sheet. I felt his warm flesh against mine, and instantly felt safe. _

_"Baby, I have to go to work in four hours. We should sleep." I suggested. At first, he whined and eventually put his arms around my neck and waist. _

_"You're not like any other girls I've been with, you know that?" He said. What a sweet talker. _

_"No, not really." I said naively. _

_"Well, you make me special when I make love to you-"_

_"Alex! Okay, we never actually make love." I rolled my eyes and laughed. He eventually chuckled and brushed my hair with his fingers. God, I loved when he did that. _

_"Fine. When we fuck, you make me come hard." He said. I slapped his arm playfully and wrapped my arms around his neck. "You sure you don't want another round?" He asked._

_"I'm tired, and you know that." I said and leaned against his chest. He turned off the lamp and kissed my forehead. _

_"Good night, sweetheart."_

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**8:00AM:** Nothing.

**8:09AM:** Nothing.

**8:20AM:** Lots of snoring, but nothing significant.

**8:32AM: **Lots of screaming and whining

**8:33AM:** Lots of screaming, whining, and running around

I was late. Again. I could feel that my eyes were puffy from binge drinking last night. Perhaps thats why I was having a nightmare too. I quickly got in the shower, poured right amount of shampoo and conditioner into my damp hair, rubbed for about thirty seconds, and washed out the residue. I skipped the apricot body scrub, and brushed my teeth in the shower. Then, I rubbed my face with a face cleanser and I was done. Three minutes in the shower and that was it.

"Where the fuck is my hair dryer?" I bellowed. After looking around for about ten minutes, I found it sitting under my bed. How the hell did that end up there? Anyway, I dried my wavy hair and got dressed simultaneously. I picked out a supposedly clean and pressed v-neck blouse from my laundry basket and picked a black pencil skirt from the closet. I quickly got dressed, put on some make-up, applied lotion, sprayed some hair product over my dry hair, and dabbed some Burberry onto my bareskin. I took a chocolate granola bar from the counter, and left the apartment in such hurry. Trust me, this wasn't the first time I was late.

The one thing I really hated about Gotham was that it was almost impossible to hail a cab from the street I lived on. Even if I saw a cab, it was either full or the driver looked like a creepy Indian pedophile. So, I had to walk up about three blocks to hail a cab (it was either that or taking a bus...remember, it's rush hour...which meant no room on the bus). As I power walked to the 61st, I was tempted to walk into Starbucks. I immediately thought that bringing a cup of latte or mocha would compensate for my tardiness. Ah ha! I would be ten more minutes late, but Steve won't be so pissed about it.

When I opened the door, there was a myriad of late business professionals dressed in suits and skirts. I sighed and still decided to wait. I wanted my grande chai tea latte, and I was pretty sure Steve wanted one as well. As I waited, I had a sudden flashback to my nightmare. Well, it wasn't a nightmare technically, but it still brought back bad memories of us. The dream felt so real while I was dreaming, that I could still remember his spearmint breath and rough exterior. Oh, and the orgasm that hit me. I daydreamed for quite a while to relive the dream of me having sex with my ex. When I looked up, I noticed that at least two people got in line in front of me. What the fuck? I wanted to tap the guy who just cut in front of me on the shoulder, but the barista called out 'next', so there he went.

"What a prick." I murmured. Shortly, another man dressed in suit with a Blackberry in his hand smelling like Ralph Lauren Polo passed in front of me. He was still two inches in front of me, on the phone, so I tapped. I didn't want to be rude, so I politely tapped and pointed to the back.

"Excuse me?" He said.

"I was here before you." I said coldly. He raised his brown brow and turned away from me. What the fuck?

"Hey-" I interrupted. He gestured to wait a sec, and was still in front of me. Out of genuine frustration, I took his phone.

"What are you doing?" He tried to take the phone away from me, but failed.

"What am I doing? What the fuck are you doing, you moron? You just cut in front of me, and I had been waiting her for twenty-fucking minutes. I say get to the back of the line, you asshole." I said as I gave back him back the phone. He didn't say a word for good ten seconds and the whole store became quiet. Some even looked amused to see me yell at this douchebag. Shit.

"Listen, lady. I'm sorry that I cut in-"

"Lady? I'm not your fucking lady! Go to hell, you asshole!" I yelled and went to the barista as I was next in line. I gathered myself and exhaled. I was going to be fine.

"A grande chai latte with extra foam and peppermint mocha with non-fat milk." I said. The barista was busy staring at that asshole still in line by the door. Asshole.

"That would be 11.57." She said. I took out my Amex and handed it to her. I waited patiently until my two cups of Starbucks arrived. I felt giddy, UNTIL I turned back and saw the asshole in the front of the line. He smirked and shoved his hand in his blazer pocket.

"Can you at least move, you jerk?" I said. He chuckled and gave me an amused look. What the hell?

"You can ask me nicely, lady." He said.

"Can you please move so I can get the fuck out of here? Unless you want this cup up your ass."

"Wow, I've never heard so much crap coming out from a young woman's mouth." He said and he PURPOSELY elbowed me. The hot latte ran down my barehand and eventually spattered on my trench coat. I looked up at him with my mouth open and stormed out without looking back.

"Karma is a female dog!" He bellowed. What an asshole.

At least I don't have to consult that book on 'how to cause a scene'. Oops, I did it again.

* * *

"Late again, Missy?" Oh god. Steve was standing by the door with a cup of coffee (YES!) and this year's lookbook. This was never a good sign. I bit my bottom lip and approached him.

"You have noooo idea what happened this morning-"

"Are you going to tell me that lame stray cat story again? Huh?"

I frowned. "What cat story?"

"Never mind." He hissed.

"Steve, no. This moron cut in front of me at the coffee shop. I was late because I wanted to do something hospitable-"

"What, getting into a fight?" He asked.

"No! Getting you a cup of coffee!" I exclaimed. "He spilled my latte all over me just to piss me off! You should've been there!" He rolled his eyes and got back to his office at the end of the hallway.

This surely was going to be an eventful day.

* * *

I became more frustrated as I couldn't get this damn stain off my coat. I threw the coat aside and continued sketching. Ever since the _incident_ with Alex, I felt myself becoming more insecure, sensitive, and flat out bitchy. I was always frustrated from work even though I liked what I did for living, witnessed slight weight-gain from binge drinking (thanks to Katie and Lily), and most importantly, lost faith in myself. I sighed and stopped sketching. This whole idea of Christmas Collection 2010 was about representing female vigilante models, to portray our own masked vigilante, Batman. I've been always fascinated by the caped crusader, as he lived a normal life until at night, where he became a masked vigilante. I started wondering who that could be. I ripped a piece of paper from my sketch book, and started making a list of I'd say 'prerequisites' or requirements one must possess to be Batman. And, this is how it went.

1. Must be loaded to buy all those off-the-market gadgets.

2. Should be single...Right?

3. Must be physically capable of fighting three mobs at once. AKA, very built.

4. Should have a personal doctor as he can't go to an ER when he gets injured...Or maybe he is a doctor himself!

5. Must live in one of the secluded areas in the city...Maybe the meatpacking district...

When I finished completing the list, my Blackberry vibrated loudly against the glass desk. I looked at the caller ID and guess what? It's the anxious bride-to-be. "Hello?" I said.

"Liv! Did you figure out where we're going for the rehearsal dinner?"

"Um, first of all, hi. Secondly, how are you?" I said. She sounded like she was walking down to adopt a dog or something.

"Yes, yes, hi, I'm quite busy at this moment! But I'm good-" She paused. "How did the meeting go with the girls?" She asked. Rachel always referred to _her_ bridesmaids or _my_ friends as 'girls'. Kind of weird, but it's Rachel. I definitely didn't want to tell her that we all got shitfaced, so I decided to come up with a white lie.

"The meeting went great. We went to _Il Mare_ for dinner and came up with different ideas. We decided where we want to go for the bachelorette party-"

"Liv, I forgot to tell you this, but I don't want a bachelorette party." She said.

"What? Rachel! That's the reason why Katie and Lily are volunteering to help out."

"I know, but I want to be faithful. Even in our pre-wedding days." She said calmly.

"Um, we're clearly not going to hire strippers and hookers. You can drink moderately, and it will be fine-"

"No, I've already talked to Harvey and he thinks it's a great idea." Of course. I sometimes doubt lawyers' negotiation skills.

"Right...well, I have to tell them about this-"

"Oh, tell them they can go to Harvey' bachelor party. I'm letting him do his own thing, you know. For the last time." She said. I rolled my eyes and pinned the Batman List onto my cork board.

"Ohhkay. And we decided to go with baby purple, strapless bridesmaid dresses." I said.

"Great! You're finally being supportive and getting things done. I'm proud of you."

"Right. Well, I have to shop for your stupid Halloween party-"

"Liv, it's not stupid! It will be great. Actually, I called Bruce today to confirm that I asked for an extra ticket. He said it was fine, but he sounded really mad about something. I have no clue why, because he said it was a long story that happened on the way to work." She said.

"Well, I got into a fight with an asshole this morning. Maybe we have _one_ thing in common."

"Really? I told you, curb your anger!" She said. "Sweetie, I have to go. I'll call you or drop by, okay? Love you." She hung up.

Lesson of the Day: Nightmares and assholes don't mix together.

* * *

**AN: Yay, third update! Sorry guys, I've been verrry busy with school..and I didn't have time to update this AND Breathe Slow (if you don't know what this is, it's my debut fanfic. Please check it out.)**

**I'd call this time of stage, FAMINE OF REVIEWS. Please review. It will take less than 20 seconds! ;)**

**Hugs,**

**Jaime**


	4. The Other Side of the Door

_Disclaimer: I own what's mine._

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**Rachel Getting Married?**

**Chapter 4: The Other Side of the Door**

_I never knew a two minute walk to CVS to my apartment would feel like 24 hours. I didn't even bother carrying anything to the store besides my Amex and keys, and later realized that I forgot my CVS membership card. I didn't care. I ran to the second aisle and looked for pregnancy tests. I wanted to find out the common cause of all these changes to my body and mental health: sudden cravings, morning sickness, nausea, and swelling of my breasts. Plus, I missed my period. It's been two weeks. When I saw at least ten different types and brands of pregnancy tests, I picked one of each and stacked them in my shopping basket. When I was about to pay, the cashier gave me a funny look and told me that she wishes me good luck. I gave her an awkward smile and exited with two plastic bags full of pregnancy tests. _

_As soon as I got home, I rummaged through the covers and found a small plastic cup Alex used to drink beer from. I ran to the bathroom with two plastic bags and a carton of Tropicana, and started to take out all the pregnancy tests from the boxes. While drinking, I skimmed through all the intructions, saying that two lines, POSITIVE, smiley faces, CONGRATULATIONS!, and YES meant that I was preggers. I chugged the orange juice and felt sudden trepidation and excitement as I had to pee. Many thoughts sweeped over my mind, such as what if Alex wasn't ready for this? What about my mother? I urinated in the small red plastic cup, and started to dip the pregnancy tests into the cup. When I was done dipping, I put the caps back on, and put them aside. All I could do was wait and see. _

_A few minutes later, I got up from the gelid tile floor, and held up the test. The first one had two pink lines. The second one said, 'POSITIVE' in capital letters. The third one said, 'CONGRATULATIONS!'. The fourth one had a smiley face. The last one simply said, 'YES'. I dropped the fifth test on the floor and tried to fight back the tears of trepidation, anxiety, and joy. _

_I was pregnant. _

_

* * *

_

When I got home with two full grocery bags, I couldn't believe I had been living in this mess for months. There were empty and half-empty wine bottles on the floor, unwashed sweaters and shirts on the couch, moldy brie cheese in the fridge, dying plants in the balcony, and fifteen unchecked voice mails. Oh, and probably about 50 mails in my mailbox which I haven't checked. Great. I had called Lily about an hour ago if she wanted to come over for dinner. Well, I was never much of a cook, and often relied on her mediocre cooking skills. If not, we ordered Thai or Chinese. Sometimes tacos. She gladly agreed while complaining about how hungover she was from last night.

Before unpacking the groceries, I had one thing in mind: clean this damn place. I put my purse on the kitchen counter (the usual spot) and hung up my stained coat. Shortly after, I began to put all the clothes lying around into my laundry basket. Some of them needed to be dry cleaned, but I didn't have enough time to sort those out. Then, I grabbed the recycling bin and dumped all the empty bottles into it. All the half-empty ones went back into my liquor cabinet and fridge. There were not so many dishes in the sink because I barely ate at home. I always had a granola bar in the morning, had lunch at work, and mostly skipped dinner or ate finger foods at galas and runway after parties. I was invited to a gala or some sort of a social event about four times a week (some of them were mandatory as Steve urged me to attend all of them to represent Steve Macmillan), so I only went for an hour maximum, and returned drunk or full. Sometimes both. After cleaning, I felt much better. I only had to put the groceries into the fridge, and then I was done. Before I started unpacking, it was time for me to check all the voice mails. The first one dated back to last week.

_"Helllllllo? Liv? Please pick up. It's urgent!"_ That was Rachel.

_"Missy, you're late. Again. Before you come to work, get the Look-Book from Susannah. Urgh."_ That was quite obvious: Steve.

_"It's your mother, Olivia. Are you coming down for Halloween? Or for your long weekend? Jeffery's kids miss you so much, and they were wondering if...Linda, take the dog out! Now! Oops, sorry that was Linda. My housekeeper. Anyway, they were wondering if you wanted to dress up as a Powerpuff Girl. They're missing one character or something and they need a brunette. If you can't make it for whatever reason you have, come for Thanksgiving. That will be great and call your dad as well. It will show some respect for your father. I love you and miss you. Bye."_ Oh god, mothers were disasters.

_"Come to my place. Now. I'm going through crisis!"_ That was Lily, and she called me because her boyfriend left for Aruba, and some girl picked up his cell. Yep.

_"Hey, it's Mike. I...um, remember giving you my card but you never called. Um...I got your home number from Steve...I hope, um that was okay with you. Would you be able to meet for breakfast? Brunch? Lunch? Dinner? Dessert? Walk in the park? Drinks at my place? Please call me back. The number is 810-923-4725. Bye."_ That was nobody. Well, just a guy I met through Steve as he insisted on dating a guy. He was a complete catastrophe and I remember him as the 'Um Guy'.

_"Olivia, don't forget to attend that interview with Vanity Fair. And tell them that the black, lacy push-ups by Alexis are the best!"_ Steve. Again.

_"Do you ever check your phone? Your cell phone's dead. Or you gave me the wrong number so I won't bug you. Jeffery's kids are so sad right now because they think that you won't come over for Halloween. They're crying their eyes out for Christ's sake! Please, call Jeffery. He's your brother for god's sake! Oh, and Karen was asking for free samples from your company. I sure you can manage that?"_ Mother. Again.

_"Livvvvvvvv! Oh my god, this guy totally wants to hook up with me! He's hot, six foot, works out three times a week, and he's a photographer! Can I take him to your place because I don't want my roommate to wake up. Pretty please? It's my only chance!"_ That was Sadie. My intern at work. What the fuck? Whore.

_"Oh, hello? Hello? Helllllllo? Marky Spanky are you there? Man, pick up! Dude, bring some- Oh...shit!"_ This guy definitely got a wrong numero.

_"Liv, just in case you don't check your mailbox, I left two VIP tickets to the Mercedes Fashion Week. I hope you can come too! Love you and have a great day."_ Katie. I absolutely adore her for her generosity.

After checking most of my voice mails, I had one thing in mind: Take care of my business. My mother was worried that I won't be able to be a Powerpuff Girl with two of my nieces-Kiley and Ceci- and definitely wanted me to visit. She lived in Fort Lauderdale, so it wasn't such a bad idea to enjoy its warm weather and beaches. So, I decided to email her (which was easier since I didn't have to listen to her scream) in about two hours. When Lily's gone. Oh, and I should tell Sadie, an intern who just graduated from Syracuse, that it is inappropriate to ask me if it were all right to bring a stranger into _my_ place and fuck on _my_ bed. Other than her promiscuous behavior, she was a sweet girl who wanted to learn more about marketing. All of a sudden, I heard a loud knock on the door.

"Coming!" I yelled. When it opened, I saw Lily with two bottles of Pinot and a bag of Thai food. This girl really knew how to celebrate for no special reason.

"Liv! How was your day?"

"Awful. My eyes were puffy all morning, suffered from intense migraine, and oh did I tell you I ran into this asshole at Starbucks?" I said. I was still pissed about my coat.

"What asshole?" She asked and unpacked the take-out.

"Some guy. He looked familiar though. Anyway, he cut in front of me and I had been waiting for at least twenty minutes. And, he intentionally elbowed me and I got my latte all over my sleeve."

"That's terrible! What a jerk. Was he hot?" She asked. Lily, out of all my friends, had the most shallow outlook on the world.

"He was...okay."

"I know that look! It means that he was smoking hot. Too bad all the hot ones are either taken, gay, or assholes." She said. "What happened to all the wine glasses?"

"Oh, we shouldn't be drinking tonight."

"What? Okay, one glass won't hurt. It's just one glass. Plus, I don't want to drink alone." She complained. I took a box of Pad Thai and a pair of chopsticks.

"Yeah, but I'm trying to stay sober. I've been drinking too much lately and gaining weight." I said. To be honest, I didn't gain a lot of weight. Maybe about three or four pounds.

"You're still skinny! Well, not model skinny. But standard skinny. It's only your boobs that make you look bigger than yourself. Oh, and did I mention your ass?" She said.

"Lils, pour yourself a glass and I'll watch."

"Fine. You know you'll give in soon. Like in about two days." She teased. "You should make a list of things you should change."

"You mean like new year's resolutions?" I took a bite of this hot-off-the-pan Thai delicacy. It was delicious.

"Yeah, sort of." She poured herself a glass of pinot.

"Fine, I'll make one right now." I took a piece of paper from the kitchen counter and a pen from my purse. "Number one, do not drink excessively. NO BINGE DRINKING. Drink moderately."

"That's a good one." She nodded.

"Number two, control my temper. Do not yell or cause a scene in public areas."

"Uh-huh."

"Number three, lose five pounds." I continued writing down neatly.

"That's going to be hard, but okay."

"Thanks for your support-" I said sardonically. "Number four, call my mother once a week."

"Are you sure you want that? You never talk to her. Like, ever! I thought she was evil."

"I know, that's why I'm going to 'try' to call." I said. "Number five, don't be late for work."

"That's going to be easy because you won't be hungover. Ever again." She giggled.

"True. I think that's about it." I said.

"Uh-huh! No, you're missing one." She paused. "Be nice to any men who approach you. Appreciate them."

"I don't have to be nice to _every_ guy I meet. Plus, that asshole from Starbucks is on my 'No-Respect-Whatsoever' list." I said and took a cold bottle of San Pellegrino from the fridge.

"Fine. Be nice to guys who aren't assholes."

"That's better." I said. I held up the list and posted it on my fridge. It was something like this:

1. No binge drinking

2. Control my short temper

3. Shed five pounds

4. Try to call my mother once a week

5. Don't be late for work

6. Say yes to men (except for assholes like the Starbucks guy)

7. Get my shit together

"Oh, Liv did you hear about that model rapist?" Lily said as she finished her first glass.

"Yes. I actually knew Tracy, you know the girl that got killed."

"How tragic! I was so scared when I heard about that! It's now confirmed that she had been tortured and raped several times! With like a metal or something because they found copper bits in her vagina."

"Okay, Lils stop. That's disturbing and we're eating." I frowned.

"I know, but I'm so scared. I have to come back from work with you from now on."

"Fine. I hope Batman does something about it." I reassured her that things will sort out. Hopefully. "Oh, and I have to tell you something about Rachel's wedding."

"Oh god, does she want the bachelorette party at the courthouse?" She laughed and took a huge bite of her sweet pork and rice.

"Um, actually she doesn't want a bachelorette party-"

"What? What the fuck? Are you kidding me?" I nodded and she gulped down her wine. "I can't fucking believe that! I mean, the only reason I'm wearing that ugly bridesmaid dress is because you're my best friend and we were going to organize a kick-ass party!"

"I know, I know Lils. Rachel doesn't want it because she wants to stay faithful-"

"Faithful my ass!" She bellowed. I didn't know she was going to be this ticked off by Rachel's unexpected decision.

"But, she said we can go to Harvey's bachelor party." I said. Lily's eyes instantly lit up.

"What? Really? Oh wait, the guys won't want that. Unless we strip."

"Oh god, Lils. We'll go for drinks all together or something."

"Are you sure they wouldn't want to go to a strip joint? Or a gentlemen's club? I don't think they'd want to hang out with us." She asked timidly.

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen. I got this." She nodded like a little girl and went back to savoring her food and wine.

What are friends for, right?

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**AN: Thanks guys for subscribing and reviewing! Those who aren't doing so, please do so! The REVIEWS make my day. :)**

**Hope you enjoyed it!**

**XOXO,**


	5. Trick or Treat

_Disclaimer: I own what's mine._

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**Rachel Getting Married?**

**Chapter 5: Trick or Treat**

I instantly regretted ordering this stupid Playboy outfit online. I shouldn't have listened to two of my best friends, Katie and Lils. The bunny hairband was too fragile, the long ears were glued on to the band, and the whole outfit seemed extremely tight. The actually outfit looked like a silk one-piece bathing suit and it was strapless. Well, at least it was on sale. I was relieved that I had a pair of beige, transparent tights, so my legs won't freeze once I'm outside. After putting on the salacious outfit, I dabbed some Dolce and Gabbana on my neck and arms and generously put some red lipstick on my lips. I looked at myself in the mirror; I looked like a real stripper. Well, maybe not that extreme, but that's sort of what I looked like. There would be plenty of women dressed like this (or even worse), so I didn't worry. I put on my jacket (it wasn't the stained trench coat...asshole) and turned off the kitchen lights. I was ready.

After hailing a cab, I took out my phone to call Rachel immediately. Judging by her punctuality and conservative outlook, I sensed that she was already at the party with her fiance. Harvey Dent was a good citizen of Gotham and deserved every bit of his current position. When Rachel first introduced me to Harvey over lunch, I knew why she instantly fell for this goody-goody guy. He was flawlessly shaved, dressed conservatively, had a high-demanding position, and most importantly went to law school just like her. Even after talking to him about mutually engaged subjects such as vacation and top-notch restaurants in the city, I never found him that attractive. Okay, to be honest, he was good looking, but not great looking. Meaning that he was a D&G, but not a Bottega Veneta. He didn't have that much sex appeal either (I guess it's the lawyer thing). I dialed her number and she answered after about ten seconds.

"Liv? Where are you?" She asked. I glanced at my watch and it was ten to eight. I wasn't even late!

"In a cab. I'll be there in about ten."

"Okay good, because everyone's here!" She said ecstatically. Again, pre-wedding hormones.

"Nice, I'll see you then." I hung up. I sighed and regretted that I promised Lils that I won't be drinking (maybe a glass of champagne...Or two...Maybe three, it won't hurt) and eating excessively. The cab soon stopped in front of a modern building and I handed him seven dollars. I put on my red lip gloss and got out. I wasn't tardy for the party.

When I got to the lobby on the first floor, I couldn't even see a thing because it was all dark. The only thing that lit the place were the yellow and orange lights and Jack O' Lanterns. Great. I handed my coat and clutch to the woman dressed in a nun costume (she was in her fifties at least) and told me that the party is on the penthouse floor. She checked off my name and I was good to go. While I was waiting for the elevator to arrive, a few people arrived after me. As they took off their jackets, I saw that they were dressed up in formal tuxes and dresses. Well, aren't they boring? Dressed as what, yuppies? They passed the nun lady and chuckled at my outfit. I feigned a smile and got in as soon as the elevator door opened.

I was glad that the place was brighter than the lobby. However, I wasn't pleased to see that I was the only one half-naked. The ONLY one. WHAT THE HELL? I looked around and the costumes varied; nuns, witches, Superman, Green Lantern, belly dancer, fat suits, blow up costumes, and a kissing booth made of cardboard. I was the only girl at the party in a tight bunny outfit.

"I think I'm going to pass out-" I quickly grabbed a champagne flute from the tray and gulped it all down. No wonder why the people at the lobby gave me a funny look.

"Oh my, Olivia!" I looked to the right and saw Rachel in a cheap wedding dress. What the fuck?

"What on earth are you wearing? You look like a...like-"

"A whore? Hooker? Prostitute? Or-"

"Enough! No, like you got dressed in the dark. Why are you wearing...this? I mean, why aren't you wearing ANYTHING?" She asked and pulled me aside.

"Because! According to my somewhat reliable friends, Halloween is the only time I can dress like a slut." Rachel gave me a dirty look and rubbed my arms covered in goose bumps.

"You shouldn't have listened to your friends! On the bright side, you look...cute though." She encouraged me.

"Thanks. What are you anyway? A gold-digging bride?" I glanced her dress up and down. She had some ketchup stains around her lips, and her make-up was done horribly.

"I'm a corpse bride. Duh! Isn't that funny? Harvey and his friends are over there. Come on!" She said and dragged me. Every time I moved, people's gaze tended to follow my ass and I was so embarrassed. It's Halloween! For adults! We soon spotted Harvey and his friends, and before welcoming me, Harvey gave me a funny look.

"Someone thought this was a tarts and vicars party." He joked and gave me a friendly hug. He was wearing a tux and had ketchup stains just like Rachel. Yes, he was the corpse groom.

"Very." I said bitterly. I looked to Harvey's right and gave his friends an awkward smile.

"Oh, well this is Jason, my best man. Jason, this is Olivia, Rachel's maid of honor." I shook his hand firmly. He wasn't so bad looking after all; he had blond hair (almost strawberry blond), blue eyes, and you know the typical mid-west style. He obviously didn't go to law school.

"So nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I really like your bunny outfit, Olivia." He grinned. I let out a dry laugh and took Rachel's champagne.

"Thanks." Surprisingly, I said nicely. His cuteness made up for it.

"And this is Greg, my groomsman. We went to Yale together." Harvey said proudly.

"Greg Notman. Nice to meet you." I shook his hand gently. He wasn't a total babe, but I didn't mind his upper-class look. His hair was brushed perfectly, and I could smell his cologne from miles away.

"Nice to meet you too, Olivia." He smiled.

"So, I guess everyone's here? Well, Katie and Lily weren't invited, so they couldn't make it." I glanced at Rachel, and she instantly turned away as she knew that she was going to take the blame for not getting enough tickets.

"Oh, Bruce should be around." Rachel exclaimed. She took out her phone and started to dial his number.

"Well, we can start without him. He won't be that much of a help." I rolled my eyes and took another glass from the tray. This was only my second glass.

"Rach, don't call him. He's right over there-" Harvey pointed to my right and I saw a guy dressed up in a designer-made (possibly Armani or Hugo Boss) with a white name tag that said: 007. Corny. I focused on his face, and it soon became the biggest mistake of my life. Oh my God. It was that asshole!

"Is there something wrong? You look...nervous." Harvey asked.

"Yes! What the fuck is this asshole doing here?" I pointed at Bruce Wayne. He was first shocked to see me half-naked, but eventually smirked and offered a hand.

"Bruce Wayne. Nice to finally meet you properly." He said and his eyes traveled from the black heels I wore to my chest. Pervert.

"What makes you think that I would want to shake your hand? Perv." I crossed my arms.

"Well, I'm Harvey's groomsman and we have to work together at some point, lady." He said. True, but that didn't mean that I had to be nice to him.

"Fine. I'm so happy to talk to you again, asshole." I took his hand and squeezed it so hard that he squinted his eyes. I turned to Rachel and Harvey and stood there without saying a word. Rachel looked shocked to hear me curse at her bestie.

"So! Okay everyone, I think we should all go on a mini-break over the Christmas holiday!" Rachel literally jumped up and down in excitement.

"Rachel and Harvey-" Greg raised his hand timidly. "I have to attend the 5th reunion at Dartmouth and spend the rest of the weekend with my mother, so I have to drive down to Hanover that weekend. I guess I'm out." Greg apologized.

"Well, that's fine. Does that work for everyone else?" Harvey took charge.

"Fine with me since I don't do Christmas." I said and took another sip.

"Right, I knew that." Rachel said and probably thought about my Jewish mother. Even though he and my mother divorced ten years ago, our family still celebrated Hanukkah together in Gotham or Fort Lauderdale.

"I guess you celebrate Hanukkah then?" The asshole asked.

"Yes." I kept my answer short and looked away.

"So, you should be familiar with the Jewish foreplay." He asked and Rachel's eyes widened.

"Bruce! Enough, stop being so inappropriate." She elbowed him again.

"Rachel, let him be. It's his nature. Actually, you're right. I'm extremely familiar with it. You mean two hours of begging?" I finished my drink and put it back on the table.

"I thought it was four hours-"

"Well, I'm half." I smirked and looked back at my bride-to-be friend. She seemed confused by our sexual talk, and cleared her throat.

"Okay, I guess I'm going to get something to eat!" She and Harvey headed to the buffet table.

"Great." I rolled my eyes and started to walk away.

"Hey, Olivia?" The asshole called my name.

"What, asshole?" I asked.

"Nice rack, by the way." He said. I put on my 'what-the-fuck-did-you-just-say' face and took a detour.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, nice rack. Oh, and very interesting choice of Halloween costume. You really do stand out. Hugh Hefner should be really proud to have you." He smirked.

"Thanks jerk." I bellowed and left the crowd. I have caused a scene again and embarrassed myself. It was time for me to get out of here.

* * *

AN: Here you go, another chapter!

Don't forget to REVIEW! REVIEW! AND REVIEW! :)

Hugs,

Jaime


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